on the ‘net, but my mail client dings. No lie, my heart skips a beat when I see the name. Jesse Saldana. I got a couple of emails from him while we were moving me into this apartment, and he insisted on helping. But since then, there have just been his casual visits to the mall.
Which are definitely increasing in frequency.
Opening the message, I read:
Hey, Shan.
I’ve been thinking about you since I got home, and I just want to make sure we’re okay. It was a little awkward before I left. Or did I imagine it? I’m trying really hard not to be a jackass here.
Jesse
I skim the words twice. Most of it, I don’t care about, but for obvious reasons, I fixate on I’ve been thinking about you. Since I wake up with Jesse Saldana on my mind, I spend the workday daydreaming about him while making pretzels and pouring drinks for people, and then I come home to obsess about him some more, this seems like the least the universe can do to level the field. I hate the word crush, but it so totally applies here. And I don’t want to be that girl; I kind of hate myself for it, actually.
So I decide to make him sweat. Deliberately, I close the program and find some free TV online; there are sites that let you watch if you’re willing to put up with their stupid ads. It’s on my to-do list to get a monthly subscription to Netflix, but you need a credit card for that, and I’m not exactly flush with cash. So I watch this sitcom until I’m tired enough to sleep, and it makes me happy to imagine Jesse wondering why I haven’t replied.
In this single matter, I agree with my mother.
It’s best to leave a man hungry.
Three
I’m looking hot tonight. Maybe it’s immodest to say so, but I know what suits me and I’m good with hair and makeup. I suspect Jesse’s never dated a girl who looks like me, though. I could be wrong. Maybe he’s all about bad girls deep down…and if so, he’s knocking on the right door.
Before answering, I count to ten, then answer his hesitant tap, relishing his stunned expression when he takes in my platform boots, striped tights, short leather skirt and black corset top. His gaze doesn’t reach my face for a full ten seconds, and then he jerks his eyes upward, looking so guilty that I could shove him against the wall and take a bite. He cherishes a mistaken image of me as a helpless flower, and I want to scratch it off like a one-dollar lottery ticket.
“I’m ready,” I say, smiling.
He looks like he’s torn between a compliment and telling me to go put on some pants. Instead, he only nods and ushers me downstairs, where his green Forester is parked. I notice his ride has seen better days and is in the process of being repaired, a little at a time.
“What happened here?”
He frowns, seeming not to want to talk about it. “I… Car chase. Any thoughts on where you’d like to eat?”
“Isn’t that your job?” I ask, teasing him. “To read my mood and figure it out?”
“I can’t tell if you want tacos or Chinese, just based on—” The words cut off as he registers what I really want. And he stumbles from the intensity.
Here’s a hint—it’s not food. I can’t tell you what it is about him; I’ve known hotter guys and I didn’t spend my time thinking about them naked. I cop to being obsessed, Officer. You should definitely cuff me now. Part of me wonders if this attraction springs from the spell my mother mentioned. Maybe the magick tampered with my memory and made me crazy for Jesse Saldana. If so, it’ll be awkward when the mojo wears off. But I still wouldn’t regret any bedroom action between us because he moves like he knows how to show a lady a good time.
Jesse opens the door for me, the consummate gentleman, and I flash him some thigh as I climb into his SUV. “Thanks.”
He narrows his eyes, dark and shadowed beneath the streetlights. “I care about you, Shan, but you shouldn’t push me.”
“Too bad, because that’s exactly what I plan to do,” I mutter.
Circling around the truck, he doesn’t catch that, and it’s just as well. After thinking aloud, he decides to take me to a dive his folks like. It’s apparently a family place, noisy and crowded,